


Of my true heart ever the sweetest

by Philipa_Moss



Category: Arthurian Mythology
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Gawain's canonical seasonal affective disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:47:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28485606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philipa_Moss/pseuds/Philipa_Moss
Summary: The days were short and the nights were long.
Relationships: Gawain/Dame Ragnelle
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12
Collections: New Year's Resolutions 2021





	Of my true heart ever the sweetest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FitzKreiner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FitzKreiner/gifts).



> Title from "Ballad XVIII" by Christine de Pizan.

The fire burned bright. That was the first thing Ragnelle saw when she opened the door to her rooms. The second was her husband’s head, sticking out just above the furs thrown over their bed. 

“Gawain,” she said, and closed the door behind her.

The figure under the furs grunted and shifted. 

The days were short and the nights were long. This, he had warned her after they married, would affect his strength, which rose and fell with the sun. His strength in battle, she had assumed, and thought no more of it until months had passed, and she found herself in bleak midwinter and alone for a second banquet. 

She sat on the edge of the bed and waited. Soon enough, he rolled toward her, buried his head in her hip. She stroked her fingers through his hair, and unspoken question.

“Hello,” he said.

She kicked off her shoes and climbed up beside him, sitting up against the headboard atop the furs. “I missed you,” she said. “You missed nothing. Sir Lionel told the tale of the beautiful damsel in blue for the third time. I am beginning to doubt the story with repetition.”

“Wise,” said Gawain. “Lionel never spared a lady a second glance.”

“Ah,” said Ragnelle. “Silly man. Doesn’t he realize how much he’s missing?”

“None of that,” said Gawain. “It is how he was made.”

 _Courteous_. That was how the ladies of court had described her husband, when she asked. She mistrusted courtesy, thought it a front for other things. Then they married and she assumed her new form and his treatment of her did not change. She tried every day to believe in him, but it was difficult. A lifetime of experience had taught her that kindness was a trap. 

“That doesn’t mean Sir Lionel can’t appreciate a lady’s merits,” said Ragnelle. “Sir Kay sees me as clearly as anyone I’ve ever met and he’s never spared _anyone_ a second glance, as far as I know.”

“Mm.” Gawain rolled onto his back, revealing a bare shoulder. 

“Husband,” said Ragnelle, “are you wearing anything under there?”

“Why would I be?” asked Gawain. “Here I am, waiting for my wife to return.”

“You are not too tired?” 

“I am not tired,” said Gawain. “I am…” He stopped. He shifted against her. “I have no strength to spare, no interest in tedious things. This is how it has been for me since the gift, the curse.” He looked up at her and smiled something of his usual smile. “But you, my wife, are far from tedious.”

Ragnelle got up from the bed and quickly removed her gown and shift. Watching her, Gawain’s eyes in the firelight were wide and shining. His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip. Back in bed, she slid under the furs beside him and ran her hand along his side, down to his flank, between his legs. He was soft.

“Do you still—” she began, but he caught her mouth with his. She spared a second’s embarrassed thought for the banquet, for the venison he must surely be tasting on her lips. He tasted of nothing but himself. She pulled away. “Have you eaten?” 

“Hush,” Gawain said. He palmed her breast, his thumb circling her nipple. Her mouth parted on a gasp. “There is time,” said her husband. “I will eat later. I will get hard later. There is time. I’ll catch up.” And he pushed the covers down. 

He touched her softly as he parted her thighs. His mouth hovered above her cunt. She could feel his breath. How could it be that a man born to such power could yet be so gentle? “Husband,” she moaned, and reached down with both hands to cradle his head. 

“Wife,” he replied. His grinned. “You are very wet.”

“And you are teasing me,” she said. “Hesitate a second more and I will use your mouth like a pommel.”

His face was flushed. She saw his hips shift against the bed. “Is that a promise?”

“Am I a woman of my word?” she asked, parting his lips with her thumb. “Do you know me?”

“I know you,” he said, and for a moment the air in the room seemed to still. She brushed his cheek. He smiled against her hand. 

The fire popped, breaking the spell. “Get on your back,” she said. “Pinch me if I stop your breath.” 

Later, she will hold him and he will eat fruits from her fingers. Later still, he will tell her that he loves her, and how much he loves her. And still later, the sun will rise, and happiness with it, and she will decide to trust in it, just one day more.

**Author's Note:**

> "*ships m/f couples but in an un-mistakably bisexual way*" in your prompt really spoke to me, and yielded this, the first spicy M/F fic I've ever written, in the first fandom I ever loved. Happy New Year!


End file.
